


Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year

by texaswatermelon



Category: Degrassi the Next Generation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texaswatermelon/pseuds/texaswatermelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>There’s something in your brain that holds the key to your self-sabotage, you think.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> Deals with the aftermath of rape.

There’s something in your brain that holds the key to your self-sabotage, you think.  There has to be; some neuron or electrode or chemical that causes you to just continually put yourself in these hellish situations.  Because, really, what _were_ you thinking when you agreed to this?  Any normal person would have come up with some excuse.  Instead, you find yourself back here, right back where you started.  The halls of Degrassi never looked so bleak.

Now that you’re a ‘successful’ graduate, Hatzilakos wants you to speak to the students to tell them how you ran on a fuel of hard work and determination to get you on the track to your dreams.  You wonder vaguely if she’d appreciate you telling them about how you failed your way through your first semester so badly that you finally had to drop out.

Naturally, they have you speak in Mr. Simpson’s room.  It reminds you of a lot of things.  Everything important seemed to happen in Media Studies.  You can almost picture yourself sitting in several chairs around the room, gossiping with Ashley and Terry, or hanging on top of Spinner, joking with Marco, glancing mischievously at Alex.  It seems so close, and yet it’s still a world away.  You’re nowhere near that girl anymore.  You don’t even know her name.

There are a few familiar faces around the room, many of which you’d rather not have to look at.  Danny and Derek look exactly the same, just a foot or two taller.  Spinner’s still wearing that stupid grin on his face, and his girlfriend looks at you like she’s already heard every story from him.  Toby’s kicked back easily while Liberty has her pen poised, ready to jot down your every word.  Jimmy’s the only one who smiles at you like a friend, and you smile back, slightly comforted.  You need the comfort; there are a lot of people who don’t know you, Lakehurst kids who look bored already.  And there are a lot of people who do know you, and they’re expecting you to fail.

You give the same speech over and over to each of Simpson’s classes, and a few of the kids actually seem impressed when it’s over.  Liberty shakes your hand and congratulates you when she leaves, Jimmy gives you a hug, and even Manny and Emma smile and nod as they pass by.  All in all, it’s not such a bad day, but at the end of it you’re more than ready to go home and never come back.

You decide to stop in the bathroom to freshen up before you leave, and the sight that meets your eyes there makes you come to a dead stop just inside the door.  Because Darcy Edwards has Holly J Sinclair, of all people, pressed hard against the sink, mouth sliding hungrily across her pale, slim throat.  And for all of her pretentiousness, Holly J seems to be thoroughly enjoying it.  It’s something you never even dreamed you’d witness.

Heather’s mini-me sister opens her eyes just enough to spot you, and they nearly bulge out of her head as you raise an eyebrow neatly.  She pushes Darcy away abruptly and rushes out of the bathroom, not even a snarky little threat as she brushes past you.  Darcy turns around to figure out who scared her away, and scoffs when she sees you.

“Great.  Exactly who I was hoping to see,” she says sarcastically.  You ignore her and move to the mirror that she’s not blocking to check your makeup.

“So sorry I interrupted your secret lesbian sexcapades,” you tell her insincerely.  She glares, arms crossed, and turns to you.

“I’m expecting you to keep your mouth shut about this,” Darcy warns, eyes glinting dangerously.

You’re not intimidated.  “What’s wrong, afraid you might get pulled off of your pedestal if someone finds out?” you mock while touching up your eyeliner.

“No.  I don’t have a pedestal anymore.  That reputation was ripped away from me,” she replies bitterly.  It’s pretty hard to feel her pain, considering you never really liked her in the first place.

“Poor baby,” you say patronizingly, finally turning to her.  “What tragic event could have possibly caused your fall from grace?”

“I was raped,” Darcy sneers.  “I’m sure you remember what that’s like.”

All you can do is stare after her as she leaves.

xx

There’s something strangely merciful about having all twenty-four hours of your day scheduled for you.  It allows you to shove the fact that you made a complete ass of yourself completely out of your mind.  It protects you from the shame you know you should be feeling.

You don’t really expect to see her at The Dot the next week, but when you do, that wave of guilt you’ve been pushing away washes over you instantly.  It feels like you’re living one of those Claratin commercials, where they pull the film away and suddenly your whole world is a million times clearer.  Only this time, the only thing that you can see clearly is Darcy Edwards.  Everything else looks kind of blurry.

It’s not pity that you feel for her, because you know that pity is the last thing that you wanted when it happened.  But there’s a kind of understanding now, like kindred spirits or something.  It’s strangely ironic that you’d have a connection like this to Darcy, of all people.

When she spots you, she barely offers you a glare before she looks away again.  The better person in you decides that you should at least apologize, and with a sigh you resign yourself to its wishes.

“Hey,” you say quietly, standing across from her.  She looks up at you, emotionless.  “Look, I’m sorry about before.  I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, great.  Thanks,” she replies dully, turning away again.  You don’t move.

“I do remember.  I remember every second of it, as vividly as if I were reliving it.”

You turn to walk away, to go on with your life, but you only get steps away before her voice calls you back.  “Does it ever get better?”  You smile grimly and turn around.

“You start to think about it less,” you shrug.  Darcy pushes the chair out across from her with her foot and you look at it for a second before sitting down.  “I still dream about it.  I wake up screaming, crying, pleading for him to get off of me.  Sometimes someone will touch me in a certain spot and I start to panic.  There are times when I can feel his hands running over me, and it makes me sick to my stomach so much that I have to go throw up just to try to get him out of me.”

Darcy chuckles humorlessly.  “Great.  I’m glad that’s what I have to look forward to.”

“Well I’d be lying if I said that everything suddenly disappears one day and that it all goes away.  It doesn’t.  But it doesn’t plague my life anymore, either.  Those things that I talked about happen on rare occasions.  And life still goes on,” you assure her.  “If I’d known about it though, I wouldn’t have been so mean to you in the bathroom.  No one should have to go through that, and sometimes people like me just make it worse.”

“It’s fine,” she tells you uneasily.  You were right; she doesn’t want your pity.  “Maybe you could make up for it though.”

You look at her in surprise.  “How?  By being your next escort to the bathroom?”  Darcy smirks lightly.

“Well, that can be included if you want to.  But I was thinking…” she stalls, and looks up at you tentatively, like she doesn’t really know how to say what’s on her mind.  “You could help me learn how to deal.  Because I’m really not doing that very well right now.  And you’re the only one I know who understands.”

She looks so vulnerable and broken right now, something you’ve never seen on her before, and it reminds you of yourself just after it happened to you.  You didn’t have anyone who understood, but she does.  It would be a wrong against yourself if you didn’t help.

“It’s not the easiest thing in the world,” you warn her.  “Far from it.  But if I can help, I will.”

Darcy smiles, and it’s the purest gratitude you’ve ever seen.


End file.
